Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Prompts
by Shan84
Summary: A collection of Tomione and Volmione one-shots from the Tomione Convention Forum's Prompt Challenges. Ratings and lengths vary. T for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all, this is just to share from the Tomione Convention Forum's Tomione and Volmione Prompt Challenges. So please enjoy my collection of one-shots which will vary in length and ratings :) **

* * *

**Chapter 1: Tomione**

**Prompt word: Moist Panties (**hahaha**)**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: Please note that this story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

* * *

Hermione hurried to the library. She'd been having an awful day. Scratch that, she'd been having an awful year. After somehow ending up in 1945, she had spent the last few months attending Hogwarts with none other than Voldemort himself.

Not only did she have to attend school with Tom Marvolo Riddle, she was stuck in almost _every _class with him. And now she was running late to meet with him to complete their Arithmancy project. Could her situation be any more awful? Why did she have to be sent to the forties? It was simply unfair.

She power-walked through the library, ignoring the glare from the Librarian, Madame Horstra, and the giggles from the stupid, inane girls she sped past. She blamed those sorts of girls on her being late anyway. If she didn't run into that bint, Daisy Brown and her cronies, Hermione would be on time. But _no_, Brown and company had purposely knocked into her (she was _sure_), sending all her books flying everywhere. Hermione smirked slightly because she had managed to knock Brown over too—ensuring that she wasn't the only one humiliated in front of the Great Hall.

She finally spied Riddle up the back of the library—not too far from the Arithmancy section. Quickly making her way to the desk, she plopped rather ungracefully down next to him, her overloaded book bag thumping loudly on the desk, which earned some glares from a Ravenclaw table quite far away from them. Hermione glared right back at them. Today was _not _the day to get on her bad side … especially because she had to work with Riddle, the current bane of her Hogwarts existence.

"Hermione," Riddle greeted, looking at her with a small smirk of amusement.

"Riddle," Hermione returned the greeting distractedly as she tried to search through her now-disorganised bag for the Arithmancy books.

"How many times have I told you to call me Tom?"

Hermione finally looked up from her bag and met the amused gaze of Riddle. It was true; she'd lost count of the amount of times he had said that. But she didn't want to become too familiar with Voldemort. Even though he seemed to be annoyingly _present_ everywhere she went.

"Er, right. Sorry, I forgot," she replied.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. "Forgot? I'm pretty sure I remind you almost every day. For someone who is so gifted with their school work, you certainly have difficulties remembering certain social … decorum."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at how bushy it had become in her anger. He was so annoying … with his good looks, perfect test scores and Mr Nice Guy act. No wonder everyone thought the sun shone out of his you-know-what. Well, Hermione wasn't fooled for a second. But, unfortunately, despite her obvious disinterest, it didn't stop him from following her almost _everywhere_. That was the worst part of all. And even though she knew that all he was trying to do was find out her story, all the teachers seemed to be under the impression that Tom Riddle was besotted with Hermione Granger. Oh, how romantic! The two cleverest students of the year finding romance in between their assignments. Thank Godric she had been placed in Gryffindor again … that at least guaranteed her some protection and space from the Heir of Slytherin.

"So," he began in a low drawl that made most of the girls weak in the knees, "what is it going to take for you to ever call me Tom?"

"_Riddle_," Hermione emphasised as she crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him. "Why do you even care? I thought all we were doing was an assignment. Let's get it done, shall we?"

"Well, the Professors—"

"Yes, about that, we really need to do something about that. Do you know how many girls have _tried _to hex me just today? For something that is _not_ even true!" Hermione huffed.

Riddle gave a low chuckle, and Hermione ignored the shiver that travelled down her spine at the sound. _No_, she was not attracted to Riddle! Even though she felt her chest twinge when he gave a rare grin, or the way her heart sped up to impossible levels when they got into one of their many debates. No, Tom Riddle—no, _Voldemort_—was evil. While she noticed all of those things, she also noticed how his eyes were so cold most times; full of calculation and cunning. She had even accidentally overheard him talking to his Knights late one night … if 'talking' was code for punishing, that is. It reminded her constantly—as well as his future actions—that she needed to keep her distance. Even though that just seemed impossible.

"I'm not sure I want to. I do so enjoy seeing the creative ways you've sought your revenge, Hermione," Tom said smoothly, pulling her out of her thoughts. "By the way, they've finally been able to untie Elizabeth Parkinson's tongue, she was realised from the hospital wing today…"

Hermione kept her face blank, but was laughing inside. "How many times do I have to tell you, I had nothing to do with poor Parkinson's predicament," she replied. "And I have not been the only victim of her gossiping ways, as you well know." _Plus, the cow completely had it coming!_

"Mm, yes, I'm sure. It's just interesting that it seemed to happen right after she spread those rumours about you using Imperio to make me kiss you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and couldn't stop the smirk appearing. "Then how do we know the culprit wasn't you?"

Riddle had the audacity to look shocked. His dark eyes widened with faux innocence. "Why, Hermione! I cannot believe that you would accuse your Head Boy of such things. I would _never _hurt a fellow student!"

Hermione had to turn so he wouldn't see her eyes rolling. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Arithmancy books. "Right. Anyway, here are the books. Shall we get started?"

Tom took the books, still eyeing her in a calculating way, annoying smirk present. "I suppose. How about I look up the theory and you get started on the chart?"

Hermione nodded, pleased to finally be on the topic of schoolwork. "Sure." She pulled a piece of parchment out and began setting up the chart.

About ten minutes later, Hermione looked up from the chart. "Are the books okay? I got them especially for this assignment."

Riddle looked up at her, another annoying smirk appearing on her face. "Oh, you chose it just for us, did you?"

A confused frown appeared on Hermione's face at his odd tone. She'd rarely heard him like this. "Of course I did. It's got some fascinating theories in it," she replied, feeling slightly defensive.

Tom's eyebrows rose as he eyed the book in his hands. "Oh yes, I'd definitely say that there are some interesting theories in it…"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. Why was he suddenly acting so strangely? That was a rare book! Professor Lockerby had loaned it to her specially, after she had explained what they would be working on for their project. Her eyes finally dropped to the book and widened with horror. That wasn't the book! She didn't even recognise that book. How did it get into her bag?! Then she remembered and groaned; it was probably one of Brown's books that got mixed up with hers.

"That's not the right book," Hermione said quickly, and went to snatch it off him. But Tom was too quick, and moved it out of her reach, holding it above their heads.

"I gathered that," Tom replied smugly. "I must say, I'm surprised to find _you_ reading this sort of thing," he said.

Hermione looked up at the book and noted its garish red cover. "That's not my book," she replied, annoyance seeping into her tone as she tried to reach for it again and was unsuccessful.

"That's always the excuse when caught with something like this. Let me see … what should I read first? Oh, yes, _'Imelda sighed as Reginald kissed her passionately, knowing that she was safe in his protective embrace …'_."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror as he continued reading; that was definitely not her book! She leapt up as Tom continued reading and attempted to snatch it from his grasp, but he moved it so quickly that Hermione tripped forwards and fell right into Riddle's clutches. She squeaked when he pulled her into his lap and held her tight. She tried to get out of his grasp, but feeling incredibly uncoordinated, her attempts at escape only seemed to give him even more leeway and his grip tightened. Who knew someone so lean was so strong? This was something Hermione was certainly not expecting.

"Why, Hermione, you only had to say if you wanted it read to you," he sniggered, before continuing. "_Imelda felt Reginald slip her moist panties down her slim thighs. She sighed as he laid her back on a bed of roses_—"

"Stop!" Hermione cringed. "And let me go!"

"They do say that it's always the quiet ones … but honestly, Hermione, we're _friends_. It can just be between us. Don't let it get your … _panties_ in a twist." Tom smiled darkly at her. Hermione felt that same familiar shiver pass through her, and their close proximity was not helping matters at all.

"It's not mine," she replied quietly, as he ran one of his hands down her side, to her hip where he stopped and gripped it tightly. Hermione looked into his gaze, which was darker than she had ever seen it and bit down on her bottom lip before her gaze dropped to his lips. She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he noticed and smirked at her.

He was all around her; his scent, his magic. Hermione breathed in deeply and, in a moment of weakness, didn't pull away as he dropped his head and brushed his lips against hers. His taste burned, and Hermione quickly jerked back, before Riddle slipped his hand into her curls and pulled her back towards him, closing the gap completely, and kissing her hungrily.

Hermione sighed into his kiss as she heard the book drop loudly to the ground, and moved her hands to run through his hair. This was madness, but she didn't want to stop. In his arms, in the quiet of the library, they were in their own little world, where Hermione could pretend that he wasn't Lord Voldemort, and she wasn't Hermione Granger, time traveller.

XXX

Elizabeth Parkinson stood a bookshelf away, staring in horror at the sight that was unfolding before her. She had come to give the new girl of piece of her mind … she knew it was _her_ that had cursed her. Really! Elizabeth was only trying to help Tom get away from that _freak_ … and now look what was happening!

She stomped out of the library. She would show them. Just wait until the whole school found out about this…

XXX

* * *

**Thanks for reading :) Feedback is always welcome. Anon review replies can be found on the Tomione Convention Forum.**

**Cheers**

**Shan**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all, new prompt for you :) Please enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Volmione**

**Prompt Word: Air Horn (this was hard!)**

**Rating: T**

* * *

Hermione Apparated to a small seaside town, the sounds of the ocean and ship air horns floating through the air. She recalled, from a childhood trip with her parents, that this particular town had a terminal which regularly shipped cargo back and forth between England and France.

She had managed to steal Wormtail's wand while the stupid man, thinking that she had been truly broken, had dropped his guard for a second and turned his back on her. A dark part of her hoped that he was severely punished for her escape. The snivelling, bumbling coward was always looking at her in a way which disgusted her. That was possibly one of the only positive things of being the Dark Lord's pet; the likes of Wormtail weren't allowed to touch you.

Not that she'd be his pet for much longer if she could help things. If she could sneak onto one of the cargo ships currently moored in the bay area, she could get into France and move through Europe from there. Going by boat was much more anonymous than sneaking through an airport or train station. Voldemort had managed to have his Death Eaters infiltrate the airports and main train stations quite well, with disastrous results for many Muggleborn Witches and Wizards trying to escape Britain. Shipping channels, on the other hand, were a completely different kettle of fish – no pun intended.

Suddenly, multiple pops of Apparition sounded through the air. Of course they would already be on her tail. She just didn't realise they would miss her so quickly, and wondered who he had sent after her. She'd be able to tell how important she was to him by the Death Eaters who were sent to catch her. A sick part of her had wondered, when interacting with him over the last couple of years, just _how_ important she was to him.

She began running, trying to find somewhere to hide. Sprinting through the myriad of narrow streets, she loudly cursed when she came to a dead end. Looking around frantically, she spied the door of what looked to be a shop of some sort, and with a small sigh of relief, quickly ran over to it, and unlocked the door magically.

Once she entered, she locked the door magically and quickly went and hid behind a timber counter at the back of the shop. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to get her breathing under control, before opening them again and taking in her surroundings.

She realised she was in some kind of boating supply shop. The walls were plastered in posters of tide charts, maps of coastline, and various breeds of fish and birds. There were shelves stacked with all sorts of boating gear, from lifejackets to fishing lures; it looked as though the place had it all. She eyed a nice, heavy looking sailing jacket, and wondered if the shop would miss it if she took it with her.

Suddenly the door began rattling, and she heard faint cursing coming from the other side as the person was obviously trying to open the door magically. If Hermione wasn't feeling so much fear at that moment, she would smirk at how effective her locking charms still were.

She flinched when a loud bang, blasting the door down, caused splinters of wood to fly across the room. Crouching down more, she went through a possible arsenal of spells she could use against the Death Eater.

"Mudblood," called out a voice with false cheer that she recognised instantly: Lucius Malfoy. Hmm, he really was bringing out the big guns. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he said, as she heard his heavy boots step into the shop.

Still, she remained hidden. Could she win a duel against Lucius Malfoy?

"Now, do hurry up and come out from your hiding spot. I have a dinner party to attend tonight and I would rather not waste my precious time searching for disobedient little Mudbloods."

_No, wouldn't want to ruin your hair_, Hermione thought and rolled her eyes.

"I could start blasting the store apart … Or I could call Bella. Although, you know as well as I do that once she finds you, you'll be the prey of a very vindictive hunter. The Dark Lord has asked that we return you unharmed, but you know what Bella is like … especially with you."

At his words, Hermione looked down at several deep scars which had never healed on her forearms. Yes, he was right; Bella was not pleased with her position and had tried to kill her several times. Sometimes, Hermione wished the woman had just killed her. Surely the Hermione of old wouldn't think that this life was worth living?

"You've got ten seconds until I alert Bella. If you come out now, though, we will return to the compound and I will not hurt you. Doesn't that sound like a fair deal?" Malfoy asked.

_Yes, very fair, except for the small issue of my freedom_.

"One … two … three … Oh, I wonder if Bella has forgiven you for that time the Dark Lord cursed her just last month because of you? Wait, where were we? Oh yes … four … five …"

Hermione stood, and watched as he spun around to face her, a small, arrogant smirk appearing.

"You're smarter than I initially gave you credit for, Miss Granger. Now, come here—"

"_Stupefy!_" she cried out, running out from the counter.

Malfoy quickly blocked the spell, and flung several dark curses at her – some of which she surprisingly had never even heard of. Considering some of the books Voldemort had given her to read, that was quite something.

She had to jump as he sent a Reducto at the counter, and sharp splinters of wood exploded, causing Hermione to cry out as she felt sharp splinters lodges themselves in her arms and legs. The force of the spell caused a nearby shelf to topple over, and Hermione again found herself jumping to avoid the falling debris.

She screamed as several large boxes fell on top of her and cried out in dismay as Wormtail's wand slipped out of her hand and rolled under one the shelves, out of her reach. She attempted to lunge for it, but was stopped short as a heavy boot landed straight on her wrist. Looking up, she met the angry, cold eyes of Lucius Malfoy, his wand trained right on her.

"Now, where were we?" he bit out. "Ah, yes, returning you to the Dark Lord."

Hermione looked around frantically, and out of the corner of her eye spotted something which caused a small flame of hope to ignite in her. She felt his hand grip her hand and begin to pull her up. Frantically, she grabbed a fallen air horn, and activated it right next to the Death Eater's ear.

He screamed out in pain and surprise, and Hermione took that moment to begin running again. Her ears were ringing, and her body aching from the fall, but she ran. Who knew where the other Death Eaters were, but that noise would have surely alerted them. She had to get to a ship, and fast.

Running out of the alley, she sighed in relief when there was no one waiting for her – Malfoy obviously went off searching by himself – and ran towards the boats, spotting a particularly large cargo boat which was in the middle of being loaded.

It was surprisingly easy to get on board the ship when no one was looking, and everyone was busy working. She stealthily worked her way through the loading area and down several corridors before she located a small, unused room. Slipping into the room, she slammed the door shut and leaned against the wall, sliding down as she tried to control her breathing.

When she opened her eyes again, she realised she was in some kind of storage room. There were boxes everywhere, and the room smelt like diesel and must, like it hadn't been used in ages. Rubbing her eyes tiredly she wondered what she was even doing. She had no wand, no money, no food, and no idea what she was going to do next. She had been given a chance and taken it, though she hadn't thought things through well at all.

It was then that she felt it. The entire room seemed to chill, and a strange buzz that was undeniably magical filled her senses. Hermione tensed up and stifled the sob that threatened to escape her. There was only one person's magic who felt that way, and she closed her eyes as the single lightbulb in the room flickered on and off, before the familiar sound of arrival caused her to shiver uncontrollably. Lord Voldemort was now in the room.

"Darling, if you wanted to go boating, why didn't you just say so?"

Hermione looked down, the full weight of her stupidity and failures pulling her down like the heaviest of anchors.

"Of course, this isn't much of a luxury cruise," he added, and Hermione looked up at him and watched as he took in their surroundings; his blood red eyes looking disdainfully around the small and dirty room.

Hermione didn't want to talk. She—for the first time in a while—couldn't work out if he was angry or amused at her little escape attempt. He finally looked down at her, his eyes flickering thoughtfully at her.

"I had to kill Wormtail, of course. Though we both know that he had been skating on thin ice for some time."

Hermione felt immediately guilty at the happy feeling that blossomed inside of her at news of the Rat's death. As if he could read her thoughts, a small smirk graced his thin lips before he held his hand out; long, pale tapered fingers a stark white against the pitch black of his robes.

"Get up," he murmured.

Hermione grimaced. She didn't want to. Standing up was adhering to another one of his orders, admitting her guilt, and most of all, giving in to him once again. He knew it too, which is why he was forcing her to take his hand.

"Hermione, if you do not stand up, I will _Imperio_ you … and we both know what happened the last time we did that." A wide grin came across his serpentine features.

Hermione flushed and felt herself grow hot with anger and something else she chose to ignore as she remembered. "Forcing me, again?" she finally muttered in annoyance, as she awkwardly stood, ignoring his outstretched hand.

Voldemort smirked. "Don't make me remind you of what you were thinking and feeling at the end. Don't make me remind you of what you continued to do when I lifted the curse. I simply needed … to show you, prove to you what you really wanted. Allow you lose that precious control of yours."

She looked directly ahead, shame filling her at his words, staring into the front of his robes. She wanted to know how he would punish her this time. Sometimes she wondered if this was all just entertainment for him. And sometimes she thought he would be worse if she didn't fight, and allowed herself to just die instead. She felt goosebumps rise as he stepped towards her and began circling around her. His robes moved fluidly around him, and she briefly closed her eyes when she felt him stop behind her.

One of his hands shot out and Hermione didn't flinch—she'd stopped after her first year held by him—as his arm snaked around her midsection and pulled her tightly against his surprisingly firm chest. She felt his wand trace the side of her jaw, and lift her bushy mass of hair from her neck. She shuddered as she felt his cool breath fanned across her neck and frowned as she felt a familiar tug in her abdomen that was becoming all too familiar with his touch.

"Did you think I would let you escape so easily?" he whispered into her neck, his wand twirling one of her out-of-control curls. "Did you think I wouldn't have put strategies or magic in place to ensure that you never leave me?" he asked in a silky tone.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, and felt the last hopes of ever leaving him flicker away.

"I'm surprised it took you two years to even try this, Hermione," he continued speaking. "Although, I think we can both agree that this was simply you acting out ... Your last ditch attempt to not accept what you have become, what _we_ have become, no?"

Hermione didn't know how to respond. All she knew was that her heart was thundering in her chest and she couldn't get enough air. She felt him move in front of her again, and this time she looked up at him.

"You have two choices, Hermione," he began. "I can either let you stay, and I will murder every, single, filthy Muggle on this ship with you watching … or you can take my hand, and come with me now and we'll pass this off as mere play time." He held his hand out between them.

Hermione shut her eyes and willed herself not to cry as she placed her small hand in his large one, and felt him pull her into a tight embrace.

She felt him wave his wand and magically open the door behind her. "Dolohov, McNair, Nott," he suddenly called, and Hermione heard the tell-tale shuffle of heavy boots.

"Yes, my Lord," she heard Dolohov ask.

"Kill every Muggle on this ship, make it look like one of those Muggle terrorist acts," Voldemort demanded.

"Yes, my Lord."

"No! _No, no, no_!" Hermione attempted to pull herself away from him, but his arms were locked around her, constricting her.

"What was that, Hermione?" Voldemort asked, his tone mocking.

"Please don't kill them, it was my fault, my _fault_," Hermione pleaded. "You said you wouldn't hurt anyone if I went with you."

"Well, I'm not doing the killing, am I?" he replied and Hermione ignored the sycophants chuckling behind her.

"_Please,_" she whispered brokenly. "Please, I'll do anything. Just don't kill them, because of me."

"Hmm, anything?" Voldemort asked. "Are you sure you want to offer that?"

Hermione nodded against his chest, and squirmed when she felt him tighten his grip even more.

"Alright, but remember this, Hermione," he began softly. "There are no more chances after this … Men, it appears we have met a most satisfactory … compromise. Return to the compound and we will meet there."

She heard the other Death Eaters agree before Disapparating, and looked back up at Voldemort once they had gone. Though, he didn't say anything, he merely brought one of his hands up to her cheek and cupped it gently, before running his fingers down her neck. She shut her eyes, and when she felt the familiar tug of side-along Apparition, it felt more final to her than it ever had before.

* * *

Thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all, here's a short and sweet one just to wet the whistle :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Tomione**

**Prompt Word: Remember**

**Rating: K**

* * *

She stood out on the Astronomy Tower, careful not to stand too close to the edge, but enjoying the cool breeze that whipped at her hair and face, all the same. She looked out towards the horizon, enjoying the fact that no matter the decade, the scenery would always remain as beautiful as this.

Of course, she was leaving tonight, and wondered what things would be like when she returned. How would everyone react to knowing where she went? It seemed like she had been gone for so long … She'd been in this time period for almost a year, yet the Unspeakables had managed to ensure that her return was only mere minutes after her departure.

She looked down at her hands as she recalled the last few months. When the Unspeakables couldn't work out a way to send her back quickly enough, they created a new identity for her, and so off Hermione went to Hogwarts as Elizabeth Banks, the sixth year Gryffindor transfer student who had fled to Britain to escape Grindelwald's stronghold on the rest of wizarding Europe.

The sudden sound of footsteps echoing up the stairs interrupted her thoughts, and she didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

"Riddle," she greeted, before turning to face him.

His expression remained politely indifferent as he gave a small nod in greeting before joining her to look over the landscape in front of them.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" he finally asked in that quiet, smooth voice of his.

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise. How did he know that she was leaving? That was strictly between her, Dumbledore, Dippet, and the Ministry.

"Surprised that I found out?" he asked, that smirk that annoyed her so much appearing.

"No, more like annoyed." She rolled her eyes theatrically at him.

"So what's with the cloak and dagger, leaving in the middle of the night business? I must say it's very annoying … I'll be left without an Arithmancy partner."

"Nonsense. Holly Fudge will be delighted you can work together again," Hermione replied, ignoring his first question.

"Okay, correction. I meant an intelligent Arithmancy partner."

Hermione turned to face him. "Are you paying me a compliment, Riddle?"

"I never took you for the type of girl who goes fishing, Banks."

Hermione shrugged lightly, a small smile appearing. "I'm not."

"You're doing an abysmal job of trying to distract me. Now, back to our original topic … Where are you going?"

Hermione looked away, and couldn't stop the wide smile that spread across her face. She never thought she'd think it, but it will be so nice to return to her own time and have Riddle as a problem of a different capacity.

"Home," she finally answered, not hiding the happiness in her tone.

"Home?"

"Yes," she replied quietly.

"And that needs the help of Ministry Unspeakables, does it?" he sounded triumphant. As if his question would unnerve her.

Hermione merely turned and arched an eyebrow. "And if it does?"

"Just seems a bit dramatic, that's all."

Hermione shrugged, before looking at the sky again. Realising the sun was getting quite low in the sky, she figured that she should get going to Dippet's office … they'd be ready for her soon. She stepped away from the edge, and gave Riddle one last look. Awkwardly swallowing as he stared at her, she crossed her arms and gave him an awkward grin.

"Goodbye Tom," she said, and turned to leave. She felt relieved at being able to say goodbye to him. No matter all of his investigating, in her mind, she was escaping unscathed.

However, before she could leave, she felt him grasp her wrist and twist her back around. Hermione let out a small cry of shock; his touch burned.

They remained silent, merely staring at one-another, and Hermione watched as his eyes travelled over her face. It felt like he was memorising her.

"They're waiting for me," she finally said, the warning unspoken, but obvious.

He let her wrist go, but she couldn't ignore the way his thumb subtly brushed against her pulse. He stepped back from her, and she really looked at him, memorising his thick black hair, high cheekbones and dark eyes. It really started to sink in … she would never know him again. There would never be another debate, another inside smirk at everyone else's stupidity, or even another worry that he was getting far too close to her truth.

"Maybe we'll run into each other again," he finally said.

A shudder went down her spine, it sounded like a promise more than anything.

She gave him a look that wasn't too telling. "If you ever see me again, I doubt you'll even remember me."

And before he could respond, she muttered another farewell as she rushed towards the stairwell, almost running to Dippet's office. Running away from Tom Riddle, running back home. She had made it, and she'd be okay.

XXX

Tom Riddle stood alone on the Astronomy Tower, a cold silence settling around him. His last image of her, a bundle of black robes and startling, curly brown hair as she _ran away _replayed itself over and over in his mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before turning to face the view of the Scottish landscape before him.

"I remember everyone."

XXX

* * *

**Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Tomione**

**Prompt word: Chapstick**

**Rating: T**

* * *

Hermione forcefully pushed her way through the throng of palm trees, flicking away some stray fronds in annoyance as they smacked into her face. She sighed at the sniggers coming from behind her.

"Will you be quiet please, Riddle?" she huffed, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed in embarrassment – luckily _he _couldn't see that – and pushing forward through the rainforest without waiting to see if he followed. The unfortunate crunch of leaves from behind her told her all she needed to know anyway.

"Sorry," he replied, not sounding apologetic at all.

"You will be if you don't stop laughing," she grumbled. "Besides, I don't see you offering to lead the way," she added as she pushed through another clump of bush, doing her best to make sure the wayward branches swung back and hit the pest behind her.

She was sweaty, hot, and itching for a cold drink. Even though they were in the heart of the Daintree Rainforest, Australia, they hadn't spotted any creeks for some time. And as they headed deeper into the forest, the humidity only got worse.

"I believe you are the one who said they knew the way. I'm simply putting my faith in you … _Hermione_."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pushed her ever-falling hair off her forehead. The heat was so oppressive at this moment, but she knew that they were close. Too close to turn back. Once they found this artefact, they could return to England and go their separate ways. She ignored the way her stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought.

As part of their deal, Hermione would help him find the magical opal and he would return magical time portal device which had unfortunately landed her right in front of him in Borgin and Burkes three months ago. They had been told by some Elders in a local Indigenous tribe that stories were told of the magical stone located deep in the forest. Well, they told Hermione, as they seemed to be deeply disconcerted around Tom Riddle.

She kept walking, ignoring his comments, lost in her thoughts of finding the opal and how uncomfortable she was in this heat. A small, but steep incline lay ahead of them, and Hermione licked her increasingly dry lips and stopped walking, staring at the steep climb ahead of her. Closing her eyes she let out a tired breath. Surely, it couldn't be too far now? They had been walking and searching for over a week now. And after several failed leads, Hermione just had a feeling about it this time. As she was about to bemoan the fact they had find the energy to climb the steep hill, she stilled. _Water_. Running water. Hermione could hear it now, as clear as day.

"Do you hear that?" Riddle asked, as if reading her mind.

"Water," Hermione replied simply. "Running water too. I bet if we climb this, it'll be on the other side."

And without even waiting for his response, she started pushing her way up the steep hill, careful not to get her feet stuck in the rather thick vines in the undergrowth, or the muddy patches of deep red dirt. It didn't matter anyway; Riddle didn't miss a beat and was right beside her as they awkwardly made their way upwards.

Hermione panted, grabbing a nearby branch to steady herself as one of her boots slipped against a particularly slippery patch of leaves. All she could think about was her own thirst. The inside of her mouth was now unbearably parched, and her lips were so dry and chapped they were actually stinging. It was like she was on autopilot at the moment. Every step was mechanical, forced; all she wanted to do was get up this hill and find what was beyond it. For a second she toyed with the thought of it being another dead end. But the larger part of her knew that this was it, this would be the waterfall that both their research and local anecdotal evidence had told them both. This would be where the opal was.

She gave a brief glance at Riddle who seemed to be having an easier time than her, even though he still walked beside her, keeping the pace she set. Bar a pink tint to his cheeks, and his hair looking slightly damp from sweat, you wouldn't think that he had just spent the last week trudging through one of the oldest rainforests in the world. Hermione scowled, she was sure she looked an absolute nightmare.

At the last part, completely exhausted and trying to catch her breath, she half-heartedly grabbed a branch and pulled herself up. They could both finally stop. Hermione looked around and gasped in awe. Below them, the trees had cleared considerably and before her was the most beautiful waterfall she had ever seen. Not that Hermione had made a life of looking at waterfalls, but still, it was one of those sights that made you appreciate nature. She could almost appreciate the walking they had just done for it—_almost _being the key word. She stood transfixed, letting her breath catch up and simply staring.

Finally breaking from her trance, she took her canteen out and drank greedily. Sighing in satisfaction, she put the canteen away, before summoning her strawberry chapstick and giving some much-needed attention to her dry lips.

"Can you feel that?" Riddle asked, effectively breaking her from her own thoughts.

"Hmm?" She pulled the chapstick away from her lips and gave him her full attention.

"The magic," he replied quietly.

Hermione's curiosity was peaked, and sure enough, as she tuned out her own physical needs, she could in fact feel it. It was like a pleasant buzz in the air, as though the magic was a cool breeze that caressed her damp skin, breaking through the heavy humidity like a knife.

"Yes," she replied, and closed her eyes as the breeze wrapped around her again, as if enticing her to the water. She opened them again and turned to Riddle, who had his attention fixed on her, a strange look in his eyes which made her feel something deep in the pit of her stomach. It was an emotional tug she had been trying her best to ignore for the last month or so.

"It's in the waterfall," Riddle said, finally breaking the moment between them.

Hermione nodded. They'd have to go swimming. Although, looking at that crystal clear water, it wasn't exactly hard to convince her. "I hope you brought your bathing suit," she joked. His reply was an incredulous raised eyebrow. Hermione snorted and pushed her hair off her forehead. "Come on, race you!"

And with that she was off. Now that the scrub had cleared, it was easier to navigate down the much smaller slope. She whooped as she heard Riddle's heavy run from behind her and did her best to speed up, intent on beating him. She finally got to the water edge and quickly pulled her boots off, tucked her wand into the waist of her pants, and stepped into the water.

"Shit!" she cried out. "It's cold!" She turned to face Riddle and wrapped her arms instinctively around herself, as if it would stop her from getting colder.

Riddle stepped into the water. "Are you a witch or not?" He rolled his eyes and waved his wand, and Hermione sighed in relief as the knee-deep water warmed to a more comfortable temperature. "Besides, sometimes they say the best way to get over those things is to jump right in."

Before Hermione could even respond, he dived towards her and crash tackled her into the water. She let out an undignified, garbled yelp as her head was dunked under the water and his arms locked tightly around her waist. She automatically grabbed his shoulders, and gripped them tightly as she pushed herself up.

"Riddle!" she yelled angrily when she finally was able to control her movements again. "You bloody wanker!"

Attempting to pull away, she scowled when his grip tightened. "It's not nice to call people names Hermione," he replied smoothly and smirked at her.

Hermione tutted. "Oh yes, and you are just completely innocent."

He gave her an amused look. "You know, I could just leave you here. No one would ever know … It would be quite … easy," he said, looking as though he was seriously toying with the idea.

Hermione stiffened in his embrace, suddenly so constricting compared to the light flirting from before. "You could … there'd be nothing to stop you," she replied, trying to sound brave but feeling anything but.

He silently appraised her, and they simply stared at one-another for a few moments, their proximity not widening, and Riddle still keeping her firmly encased in his arms. Hermione felt incredibly confused. Their attraction to one another was always broken when she was reminded of who he was. Which was not just her academic equal, or someone who was so handsome it made her hurt. He was Lord Voldemort, and she could never forget that.

"Of course, why would I do such a thing?" he asked, his tone unbearably light considering the subject matter. "You're always thinking the worst of me, Hermione."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as she felt one of his hands glide up her bare back, her shirt having been pushed up by the water. "I wonder why," she finally muttered, trying not to react to the way his fingers danced up and down her spine like a chill.

"No idea," he replied, in that same light tone. "It certainly wouldn't be in my interest to do so …"

"You sure know how to create moments."

He smirked and leaned forward until their bodies were pressed boldly against one another. Hermione shuddered as his hot breath fanned against her neck, such a contrast against the water they were in which had cooled considerably as his spell wore off.

"It's what you expect," he whispered against her neck, causing her to shiver uncontrollably, her hands unconsciously gripping his shoulders.

Before she could respond, she felt a kiss on her neck and then sighed as his lips made a practiced and well-travelled trail up her neck. He reached her lips and Hermione sighed into their kiss, and his hands moved downwards, gripping her thighs to pull them up and wrap them around his lean hips. In response, Hermione's arms went up around his neck.

Before their kiss could deepen, he pulled away and smirked. "Besides, you're mine, Hermione. You and your strawberry lips."

It was then, as she took in the dark glint in his eyes, that Hermione knew her biggest worry was not being left in the rainforest, but actually finding her way home.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and I hope that wasn't too fluffy (in a bad way at least)! I've been listening to Ed Sheeran on repeat and knocked it up pretty quickly. And choosing the Daintree rainforest was an ode to home, as I still get homesick every now and again xox**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi All, was inspired to write a very quick one shot just because I can!**

**Chapter 5: Tomione**

**Prompt: Writer's block**

**Rating: K+**

* * *

"What's the matter, Edwards, got writer's block?" a smooth voice came from somewhere on Hermione's right.

She flinched as she looked up from her homework. Just great … _Tom Riddle_. Rolling her eyes and looking back down at her parchment, she sighed when she heard him settle down next to her in the library.

"What is it that you want, Riddle?" she groaned, putting her quill down and giving him her full attention.

Riddle gave her an infuriating smirk. "You just seem to be a little stuck there … I notice you haven't wrote anything yet, and you've been sitting here for a while."

"What's your point?" she asked, wondering just how long he had been watching her for. Something she realised she didn't exactly want to dwell on, considering she hadn't noticed him right until he made himself known.

"Well," he began, and tilted his head so he could read the titles of her Arithmancy text books, before looking at her again. "You aren't going to get the highest number of N.E.W.T.S by just sitting there looking at a blank page."

Hermione shook her head in annoyance. She'd show him. After she was done with Riddle, he'd forever be known as the Dark Lord who had the _second_ highest marks Hogwarts had seen this century. Behind herself, of course. She may be stuck in the forties for an undisclosed period of time, but that didn't mean that she was going to let her studies fall by the wayside.

_Jean Edwards, _the new seventh year Gryffindor, was a highly dedicated student, after all. And whenever those Unspeakables got their act together and sent her back to the nineties, Hermione Granger was going to be the only student to top Jean's record. She gleefully imagined Tom Riddle somewhere far in the background, with not a consolation prize in sight.

"What, no retort, Edwards?" Riddle asked, looking rather smug.

"No, Riddle, I find I'm rather too busy to bother joining in on your unwitty repartee."

Riddle leaned in closer to her, effectively invading her personal space, and Hermione held her breath, unable to ignore his dark eyes and even darker hair. It was a shame he was so stunning close up.

"I think not. You might as well give up on that Arithmancy assignment that you're attempting to write … Professor Anderson believes my idea is good enough to be published in the next copy of Arithmancy Quarterly." He leaned back again, and crossed his arms as he awaited her response.

"Good for you, Riddle. You'll need something to console yourself with when you come second to me at the end of the year," Hermione replied primly, ensuring her voice was extra cheerful, as she began packing her books up. Gryffindor Tower had suddenly become a much better prospect for the evening.

Riddle narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched her get ready to leave. "We'll see, Edwards."

"We will," she replied, as she stood from her chair and grabbed her bag.

Moving to walk around him, she was suddenly startled when, as quick as lightning, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to startle and flinch. She internally cursed herself for having such a reaction, as an awkward silence descended between the two of them.

"I was just going to say, Edwards, that you forgot your quill," he said quietly, and held it up, slowly letting go of her wrist as he passed it to her. She ignored the tingle his touch had left.

"Oh …" she replied, quickly taking it from him. "Thanks."

He gave her a strange smile. "No problem. See you in Potions first thing tomorrow morning, Jean."

She took a deep breath in and gave a smile that she was sure came out more like a grimace. "Yes, see you."

Hermione quickly walked out of the library, the entire time feeling the weighty stare of a certain Slytherin on her back.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Tomione**

**Prompt: "It is life that hurts you, not death"**

**Rating: T**

* * *

She kept showing up in his dreams; this girl in the Gryffindor uniform, with the boring brown eyes and ridiculous hair, who wore the necklace with what looked like the Slytherin crest on it.

Until now, every time he tried to reach for her, she'd flit away like a memory. He'd chase her through the library, the great hall, and sometimes even down to the Quidditch pitch. Every time she'd manage to just slip away and then he would wake, infuriated that she had managed to escape him once again.

Except now. Now he found her sitting in the library, heavy tome on her lap, not even appearing to notice his presence. He stood in front of her, and yet she still looked down, concentrating on whatever it was she was reading. He wondered that if he reached out and touched her that she would disappear, run away, or he would wake up. His hand tentatively reached out, but her head snapped up, wide eyes trained on him, just as he was centimetres from touching her wild hair.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice surprisingly crisp and clear.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Why are you here every night?" He would have reached for his wand, but it wasn't on him. _Stupid bloody dream_.

"Magic," she simply replied.

"Who are you?"

"Does it really matter?" she asked, instead of answering.

He felt his irritation rising. "Yes. Tell me who you are," he demanded.

"It doesn't matter. You don't know me, we've never met. It's just a dream," she replied.

He leaned down over her, crowding her. "Yes, it does," he enunciated each word. "Why are you here?"

"I already told you … magic," she replied in a clipped tone.

"Why are you wearing that necklace?" he demanded, changing tack.

Her hand immediately went to the chain around her neck. It glistened from the golden lighting in the library.

"Because I can't take it off," she replied.

"Why?"

"Magic," she responded again.

Before he could say or do anything, she was up and running with the usual speed and agility. Tom tried to chase her, but it felt like he wasn't moving, and she was getting further and further away. He could feel himself slipping, and a cry of frustration left his lips as his eyes immediately opened. He was suddenly wide awake in his bed, the dull snores of his roommates bringing him back to reality.

XXX

He had taken the dreamless sleep potion in the hope that if he slept longer, perhaps he would dream for longer.

He found himself walking up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. When he reached the top, she was standing there, leaning on the balustrade, staring out at the darkened landscape. She turned as she heard his footsteps approaching. When she realised it was him, she gave him a slight nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the view in front of them.

When he was finally beside her, he found himself studying her. On closer inspection, he realised that she was prettier than he initially thought. It was the kind of beauty that snuck up on someone; the kind that you would initially bypass, but after taking notice, you would see it every time. Of course, the necklace was there too, glinting in sunset.

"The necklace is the reason you're stuck here, isn't it?" he asked. It was something that had been nagging at him since he had first seen her, and it suddenly became clear what it was.

She didn't need to agree out loud, the resigned look she quickly gave him was more than enough. He knew it was obviously something to do with him … the necklace, with the Slytherin crest on it, the fact that she appeared in his dreams every night … he looked down at the Gaunt family ring on his right hand contemplatively.

"I played with magic I shouldn't have," she replied quietly.

"What happened?"

She looked down and bit her lip, not looking as though she wanted to answer. "I'm not really sure."

Tom didn't believe her at all. "You used dark magic, didn't you?" he asked.

She flinched and went to turn to leave. He quickly grabbed her arm and she flinched.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

"Tell me what you did," he demanded.

"No," she replied.

"This is _my _dreams you're stuck in … don't think I can't control them and therefore _you_."

"That's just it, you haven't been able to so far, so what makes you think I'll believe _that_?" she replied matter-of-factly.

Tom tried to think of something, anything to do that would show her … but nothing that he tried worked. He almost shouted in fury. He tightened his grip … if he couldn't control her through redesigning his dream, he'd find other ways.

"Does this mean you will appear in my dreams every night?" he asked.

The girl shrugged and looked away. "Your dreams are becoming my nightmares," she replied. "I am stuck in a permanent nightmare," she muttered.

Tom thought she had said the last bit more to herself than him. This girl was a mystery. He had to know what was keeping her here.

"Come on, let's go to the library," he said, pulling on her arm.

"What are you—"

"We're going to find out why you're stuck here."

XXX

She had tried to destroy the necklace with dark magic. It had come out almost accidentally while they were studying in the Restricted Section. Although he had already guessed it, but he did relish her expression when she had realised what she had accidentally revealed.

He found out that she was in some sort of coma, and that the two of them were linked via the magic and the necklace. The only way he could break the bond, he figured, was possibly getting hold of the necklace in the real world.

When he wasn't in the dreams with her, she told him that she spent most of her time in the library. She couldn't sleep, apparently she never felt tired enough. She also couldn't talk to anyone else. The students who appeared in the background of his dreams never spoke back. She said it was like he was the only one who could see her. For some reason this pleased him immensely.

XXX

Early on, by his own reading during the day, he knew that if he got his hands on the necklace he could indeed help her. Time slipped on and Tom continuously, and on purpose, failed to share this information with her.

"My friends are keeping me alive," she said one day, as they sat out at the lake, watching the Giant Squid play. It was summer in his dreams lately, and they had started spending more and more time outside of the library, just talking.

"What?" Tom asked, eyes narrowed. He didn't like it when her attention shifted away from their common interests.

"My friends … They are keeping me alive. I know it."

Tom ignored the conflicted emotions that arose. He hated her friends; they were keeping her alive in the hope that they could get her to wake and go back to them, but at the same time, keeping her alive was keeping her in his dreams.

XXX

The one thing she refused to share with him was her name. Oh, she gave a name, but it wasn't the right one. He just knew it.

"Jane?" he asked, ignoring the bad taste the name left in his mouth every time he said it.

She looked up from the book she was reading. "Yes?" she asked.

"Can you ever feel the real world?"

She looked down, before looking back at him, brown eyes clear and serious. "Sometimes I feel such great pain, that I imagine it has to be real. Somehow it has to be the real world – my real world – trying to get through to me."

"What does it feel like, the pain?" he asked.

The look she gave him was strange. He had never seen her look that way before, but the look was gone before he could spend any more time interpreting it. "I… I can't explain it," she finally replied, swallowing heavily.

XXX

"Did you find the necklace?" she asked brightly, when he appeared to her one night.

They had started to reveal more and more to each other, and she had finally told him that he needed to find Slytherin's locket … that it was with a woman named Hepzibah Smith. Tom already knew this, of course. As soon as he had recognised the necklace for what it was – way back when he first met her – he had found out as much as he could. Still, he was pleased with her recent revelations … it showed her growing reliance on him, her need of him. Still, he sneered at her for asking him that. Was she so desperate to leave?

She picked up on his expression and she frowned. "Tom …"

"What, Jane, no hello? Straight into business are we?"

"I just … I just want to go home," she replied.

Tom felt his rage boil over at her confession. "You could die!"

The girl tilted her chin upwards in defiance. "I am stuck between life and death, with no escape! I would rather be dead than be stuck here for Merlin knows how long!"

"Nothing is worse than death," Tom replied, his voice deadly cold. Tom wanted to hurt her, make her feel real pain for saying that.

Her eyes watered. "There is. There is, Tom. I am stuck here, living, but not living. Death is the next logical step. Every day I hope that I can move on."

"What, not hoping for your precious friends to rescue you?" he spat.

"No, actually I'm not," she replied with conviction. "I've learnt that it is life that hurts you, not death."

"No. No, there is nothing worse than death," Tom replied, finding control over his voice.

She walked over to a window and brought her fingers to the window panes. There was a storm brewing outside, and she allowed her fingers to follow the droplets of water that slid down the glass. "The pain I feel when I know I'm briefly connected to my … world … I knew if I woke that I would never be the same. Neither would my world. I've changed everything," she muttered.

XXX

He stopped seeing her so often. He knew that she was hiding from him after their fight. He looked for her everywhere, but could never find her. It was like it was when he had first discovered her trespassing on dreams.

When he did finally see her, it was because she wasn't quick enough to get away. She was leaning over a library desk gasping in pain. He watched with interest, before he slowly approached her. She looked up at him, her face contorted in pain as she clutched her stomach.

"You can feel the outside, can't you?"

"More than ever," she grit through her teeth, though he did note the sarcasm there too.

"What are they doing to you?" For some reason Tom couldn't control the anger he suddenly felt. How dare they touch what was his? She was in his dreams … how dare they penetrate his dreams and his world with trying to wake her?

"I just want to die," she cried before collapsing to the ground.

Tom dropped down to the ground, and put his hand on her forehead, which was clammy. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her out of the library and down to the Slytherin dormitories.

XXX

Each dream saw her getting weaker and weaker. She spent most of her time laying on his bed while he watched over her and talked to her. Sometimes when he awoke in the morning, he expected to find her beside him, and yet she wasn't. She wasn't real and yet she was.

"I think I can actually sit up for once," she muttered one night, and gingerly pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Do you want to do something? We could play chess …" Tom asked. He wanted to talk with her again. She was the only one who could keep up with him. She was the only one who he didn't want to curse when she argued against his opinions.

She snorted. "No. I'm rubbish at chess."

"That's okay, I still need someone to lose against me, you don't have to be good," he replied with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes before looking thoughtful. "You know what I would love right now? A hot chocolate. Merlin, I even miss simple things like a really sugary cup of tea."

Tom was reminded of the fact that she couldn't eat, along with not sleeping, or being able to talk to the other background people.

"Don't think about that sort of thing," he replied, otherwise she would get morbid and he hated it when she was like that. "Now, let me tell you about the ground-breaking assignment I'm going to do for Ancient Runes …"

She rolled her eyes at him mockingly, but he knew she was listening as she always got a certain glimmer in her eyes when they spoke about academia.

So they started a rather vigorous discussion on Runes. Little did Tom know that this would be the last time she would be so energetic. Time was running out.

XXX

He was laying beside her, facing her as she breathed shallowly.

"I know you, you know," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked.

"I know that you have the necklace in the real world now," she replied tiredly, though there was no malice in her voice. "I know you, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you would never destroy something like that," she replied. "It was pointless."

"You'd be dead," he said flatly, his face expressionless.

"I'm going to be dead," she said.

"No—"

"You can't control everything, Tom," she said, her voice sounding light for the first time in a long time.

"It's my dream, my world," he said.

"And yet, you can't control me," she replied.

Tom didn't reply, and just scowled moodily.

"It's okay, by the way, I forgive you," she said.

"What?" he snapped.

"I forgive you," she repeated.

"I never asked for forgiveness."

"You don't always have to ask," she replied, and for the first time since he had met her, she gave a big yawn. The smile she gave when she realised what she had done, was radiant. "I'm tired!" she exclaimed. "Did you see? I'm tired!"

Tom didn't reply. He suddenly felt as though there was not enough air in the room.

"I'm going to go to sleep," she said, looking at him, her eyes serious despite the smile on her face.

"You're not sleeping," Tom snapped, as if the force of his voice could keep her awake.

"Yes, I am," she replied in that matter-of-fact bossy tone he had got to know so well over the last few months.

"No—"

But before he could order her any more he stilled in shock when she pressed her lips against his. As her lips caressed his, he observed that she was soft, and smelt like vanilla and fresh cotton. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him, and realised that she fit perfectly against him, like a long-lost piece of his puzzle. When their tongues touched, he couldn't stop the groan that escaped, and met her with equal fervour. It was over too soon though; she was pulling away, breaking up their kiss.

Her brown eyes were almost black, fathomless. "Goodbye, Tom," she whispered.

"No!" he snapped.

"Yes, we can't control this," she replied, her voice becoming weak and thin.

"Tell me your name," he demanded. "Tell me your proper name!"

"I—"

He ran a hand down her cheekbone. "Please? Tell me."

She leaned in and kissed him again, before pulling back. "Hermione," she finally replied drowsily and closed her eyes.

"_Hermione_," he tasted the name on his tongue. Yes, that was so much more like her than _Jane_.

But before he could say any more he realised that she was asleep. He shook her but she didn't stir.

"_Hermione_!" The room was crushing him, closing in and controlling him. He hated her, and everything was a confusing haze. He could feel it slipping away from him, and tried with all his might to hold on, but knew that it wouldn't work …

He jolted awake. He was in his world again, with no Hermione, and he knew when he went to sleep tonight, his dreams would be empty ... White hot rage shot through him. No one took anything from him without his consent. It was so anticlimactic – without fanfare.

He quickly grabbed Slytherin's locket and stared at it. It sat almost innocently in his palm. With a jolt of anger Tom hurled it across the room. He would never let death win again.

XXX

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I seriously wrote that up in a flash... When I try to think back to actually sitting and writing it, it all becomes a bit of a blur. I guess it was just one of those one shots that just comes out. So hope you enjoyed it :) **


End file.
